


She Shines for Us

by tyyrael



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyyrael/pseuds/tyyrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment alone, and a declaration of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Shines for Us

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I've never actually read The Song of Achilles, but this is a gift of sorts for my friends who have (I am familiar with the Iliad though). Forgive me if I've mischaracterized anyone! 
> 
> This is told from Patroclus' perspective.

Your stomach twists and your chest aches when you look at him. You want desperately to avert your eyes, but looking away only deepens the ache. Your eyes drink in his skin, honey spread across warm bread, sunshine falling from azure skies. There can be nothing more beautiful, you decide. The pastel mountains and aspen trees, the flitting birds and wintry springs fall utterly short when this boy is in front of you, outshining them all. He is brighter than the sun. Light that swallows all it touches. Beauty so brilliant it hurts to gaze upon. Men have long known agony, to mourn over the fact that the sun is always in the sky, that this boy is always just out of reach. One can only worship from afar.

He does not notice your pain. His world is so full of light that each of his glances drowns out your darkness, erases any courage you had of asking him, do you love me? Of course he does not, for why would the sun pay any notice to the moon, to the dim sphere whose only light is a reflection of the greater and more worthy things that exist? A world without the moon can go on, but a world without the sun is nothing. No one would miss the moon; no one needs the moon, not like they need the sun's warmth. That much, you are certain of.

Until one day when you are sitting together, perched on the boulders that jut bravely out against the sea, closer than you normally do, watching that cursed moon shine dimly in the night sky. He tells you that it looks beautiful tonight, and you ask, why? It is not even a special moon, it is a quarter-moon, a fraction of what it could be.

Of what it will be, he corrects you. People have looked at the moon for thousands of years and seen its mystery and allure, so why do you not?

You tell him, the sun is better.

But when the sun is in the sky, you cannot see the stars! Half the wonders of the sky are not even apparent to you when the sun blocks them all out. The sun is selfish. He wants the whole sky to himself. You tell him that he has always reminded you of the sun, and to your surprise, he objects.

No, he says, I do not want you to think of the sun when you think of me. I am the moon, humble but arresting, providing serenity in the peace of night, changing, ever changing, but still always there. I am the moon that pulls the tides that carry your body when it floats in the sea. We are the moon, he tells you. She shines for us. She is ours.

In the lavender light he is more beautiful than ever. Closer than ever. The sun, he says, is powerful. But the moon, the moon is beautiful. You almost believe it, coming from his sweet lips. Lips that he presses to yours, and what you feel is not the sunburst you expected, but the cool and peaceful joy of moonlit skies. You sit there and you kiss and you kiss, letting the salty breeze push chill into your damp skin, so you have to huddle for warmth. He puts his hands on your face and you can feel the courage swelling in your chest.

You ask him, do you love me?

Yes, he says. I love you. Always and forever.


End file.
